Blood and Glass
by White as Sin
Summary: A girl and her yami talk about the past, how things are not always as they appear... Fanfic for Isle of Lost Illusions, some spoilers


Blood and Glass

~*~

Another one of the IoLI fictions! This one is rather sad, mind you, and has some spoilers in it. I own only my character Sora and her yami, and nothing else. In this I thank Murakumo and the wonderful reviewers who helped make the fanfic ¡°Isle of Lost Illusions possible.¡± 

~*~

_The wounds of the heart are far greater than any that can be inflicted upon the body. Why, you ask? Eventually the body can heal, with some help from others, but the wounds of the heart, even the smallest, will forever scar you. A mother never forgets a lost child, even if she has many. Those scars never fade but they can be forgotten as time passes, as is the way of the world. ~_

_The world is a strange place. Look into a mirror and look at what you see. Do you see who you are, or who you want to be? ~_

_Blood covers the hands of many innocents to the eyes of justice, and some guilty are clean. Some murderers do not think it is wrong to kill humans, and they sleep easily with no guilt. Some know that it is wrong, but do it anyway. Who is the greater sinner? ~_

~*~

I sit down at the edge of the pier, my legs dangling and swinging almost lazily. In my hands is a small mirror and I toy with it carelessly. Light is reflected off of the glass surface, the dancing beam flickering on the surface of the water below and on the wood around me. The sun sinks into western horizon like a golden ball falling down into the cradling hands of a child playing, leaving the sky a tapestry of gold, scarlet, orange, and blue.

I look into the mirror. There is my own reflection looking back at me and beside it, an older, taller version of me, transparent like a ghost would be. She smiles gravely at me, her eyes kind.

My yami doesn¡¯t need a mirror to see me, but it makes things so simpler. ¡°Yami,¡± I say softly. ¡°You can come out now. No one¡¯s here.¡±

A young woman who could be mistaken for my twin or at least my older sister sits next to me on the pier. ¡°Good evening, hikari.¡±

¡°Evening.¡± I put the mirror away but she stops me, grasping the glass object in her hands. Her hands are different than mine. Mine have tapered, somewhat plump fingers, her hands are very fine boned and smooth.

¡°Hikari, do- you regret ever having the Rose?¡± she asks me.

I stare at her like she was insane. ¡°What kind of a question is that? Of course I don¡¯t regret it. You¡¯ve been there for me for a long time, and I hope you can for many more years. There were tough times but we made it through together.¡±

She laughs softly. My yami has a pretty voice, similar in tone to mine, but a little deeper and more melodic (in my opinion) than mine. I liken my voice to a flute beginning to warm up while hers is a rich echo of a well-tuned clarinet. ¡°You have so much faith, young one. And you place your trust in me so easily. Why?¡±

¡°Because you are a trustworthy person.¡± I smile at her.

She doesn¡¯t smile back. ¡°I have done horrible things in the past, hikari.¡±

¡°Could you tell me?¡± I look at her thoughtfully.

She sighs deeply and then turns the mirror in her hands. Images start to flicker in it rapidly. It stops on a picture of my Yami, standing by a chariot and wearing the ancient garb of Egyptian warriors. She was bandaging her arm, a sickle shaped sword in her free hand, stained with blood. ¡°Hikari, I was a warrior in ancient Egypt. I served Sekhmet, the violent lioness goddess of war. As a priestess, I served her as a soldier. Women warriors were not common, but they were not heard of either. I gained more and more power in the ranks, growing to be a high commander. All that mattered was that I carried out my orders, to protect Egypt from invaders without and within. To many I was the perfect soldier, a soldier who had no emotion, no qualms of killing, and no inconvenient connections. In a battlefield, I helped the sands grow red with blood.¡± The images show fighting, men dying on battlefields of sand, the ground stained.

I listen intently as well as watching. It is not frightening; it is actually rather fascinating. I know she would not hurt me, for she saved my life several times. And I was already used to violence¡¦ ¡°Go on, please.¡±

She stares at me for a minute, pushing down her dark sunglasses. ¡°I am surprised to hear that. Well¡¦ One day, in blood rage, I slaughtered a village. They were all innocents; the only thing was that one of the men there had tried to protest against the Shadow Games, for his only daughter, gifted in the magic of the Shadow Realm, was taken to fight in the games. Later, I found out, I killed my own brother in that rage.¡±

The pictures stop at her striking down a man with some resemblance to her, her face a mask of cold rage. His face is filled with fear, as well as betrayal, as he whispers something inaudibly. Then she lops off his head, like how a kid would kick off the top of a dandelion.

She pauses, looking pained. ¡°I was horrorstruck at what I had become, a monster who slew her own kin. Grief driving me mad, I threw aside my weapons, fleeing to the temple of Isis, to hopefully receive forgiveness, but then, I was ready to give my soul to Anubis, for I had sinned.¡±

The next series of images are of her sinking onto her knees, her sword falling beside her, as she stares at the blood on her hands. She starts to run, going through the desert in some sort of haze until she reached a temple. Women attend to her, leading her into a building by the side. Later she lies on a bed, raving from hidden nightmares.

¡°Weeks passed. I lived, hidden in the cloisters of the priestesses. To the rest of the world, I was dead to the world, as I had changed my name. Finally I came out, only to find later that I had a gift for the Shadow Games. I avoided them, as much as I could, however, as I knew they were dangerous. Later I met Jason¡¯s yami, or his past form. We became friends and eventually partners, but I never told him who I was truly. I was afraid he would hate me.¡±

I see that she later rises, creeping about dark halls of white stone, eyes haunted. She later wears simple garb, her armor gone, as she stands outside, giving her thanks to the priestesses and going off. As she walks about marketplaces and villages, she hastens away when seeing men and women obviously preparing to play one of the Games, eyes dark and nervous. She then stumbles into a tall man, Jason¡¯s yami. Obviously apologizing profusely, she dusts off as he helps her up. Their eyes meet and she blushes very slightly. Later, there are images of both of them together in a variety of settings. One makes me chuckle, for it is of Jason¡¯s yami trying to impress mine by climbing up a gnarled tree to retrieve a fruit for her. He falls to the ground, holding the fruit out of harm¡¯s way. She runs over to him, clearly worried as she helps him up. Then suddenly, he kisses her. Before I can see the conclusion of that scene, it vanishes from the glass.

¡°You should tell him,¡± I whisper softly, looking at her for a long moment. ¡°He has a right to know and if he is your friend he will understand that you left that path.¡±

¡°I am afraid you are a touch too idealistic,¡± she remarks sardonically.

¡°And I am afraid you are a touch too cynical,¡± I retort back at her, my dark eyes gleaming at her.

Her own eyes look back at mine. They aren¡¯t brown, like mine. They look more like a luminous gold, almost a rich topaz color. I admire my yami in so many ways, in looks, brains, experiences and more. The only flaws I can find about her are her reluctance to leave things behind in the past where they belong, and her harsh opinions of herself. Well, that¡¯s what I¡¯m here for.  
  


¡°The blood is still on my hands today,¡± she whispers. ¡°No matter how hard I scrub, how much water I put over them, the blood will never fade away.¡±

¡°You have to let it go,¡± I soothe her, putting an arm around her comfortingly. ¡°You can¡¯t hold it forever.¡± I look down at the mirror then at the ocean water below us. The sun¡¯s light turned the water red, the red of innocent blood, the blood I hoped to be able to wash away from her soul. Some day.


End file.
